


come to me so full of dreams

by blackkat



Series: Jango/Fay prompts [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, F/M, First Meetings, Mindwiping, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Any last requests, Jango?” Montross asks, darkly gleeful, as the tip of a blaster comes to rest flush against Jango's nape. “Seeing as we’ve finally found a death you won't be able to weasel your way out of.”
Relationships: Fay (Star Wars)/Jango Fett
Series: Jango/Fay prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941700
Comments: 9
Kudos: 417
Collections: Star Wars Alternate Universes





	come to me so full of dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Jango/Fay, he's heard the stories but the reality is something else.

“Any last requests, Jango?” Montross asks, darkly gleeful, as the tip of a blaster comes to rest flush against Jango's nape. “Seeing as we’ve finally found a death you won't be able to weasel your way out of.”

Jango grits his teeth, but—Montross is right. His hands and legs are both cuffed, and he’s been stripped of armor and weapons, beaten so thoroughly that even breathing hurts. He can feel something bubbling in his lungs, and the blaster wound in his side is still oozing blood, which is a bad sign. Flat on his stomach at Montross’s feet is just about the worst way he can think of to die, especially with the rest of the True Mandalorians elsewhere, waiting to meet up with him.

He'd told Myles he might be late, so they probably won't even know to look for him.

“Just one,” Jango growls. “Go to hell and _stay there_ this time.”

“You first,” Montross says, and Jango can hear the grin in his voice. “And say hello to Jaster while you're down there, how about?”

Jango snarls, twisting, but before he can manage anything a boot slams into his side, driving all the air from his lungs. Montross flips him over, to the laughter of his goons, and he leans over Jango as Jango gasps for breath, sprawled on top of his cuffed hands. There are lights swimming behind Jango's eyes, but he can still see the blaster Montross levels at his chest.

“Maybe I’ll put exactly as many holes in you as the Death Watch did in Jaster,” Montross muses, smirking. “That seems fitting, for a son trying so hard to live up to his father’s legacy.”

Jango can't manage words, but he spits at Montross’s boots, sees the fury flash in his eyes. Hears the report of the blaster, the flash of blue—

But there's no impact, even though he’s braced for it.

Disbelieving, Jango's eyes drop from Montross’s face to the bolt, hanging frozen in midair. Thinks, for one fractured second, that he’s seeing things, but—

And then Montross _screams_.

“An execution, is it?” a woman’s voice says, and Jango turns his head as best he can, catches sight of movement. There's a woman approaching, wet brown hair pulled up into a knot, pale cloth draped over one arm. She’s in nothing but breeches, boots, and a thin white shirt, and her blue-painted mouth is set in a dangerous line.

She’s entirely unarmed, though, and Jango hisses, twists up to his knees with a choked cry of effort, and snarls, “ _Run_ , they’ve got blasters, and there’s a sniper—”

“There _was_ a sniper,” the woman says, and Jango's heartbeat trips in his chest.

With a shriek of pain and terror, Montross hits the ground, collapses just like the five men he hired do. Jango jerks away from him, but he doesn’t even try to lunge for Jango. He’s clawing at his face, at his head, whimpering and twitching, and Jango stares at him, at the twitching, groaning forms of the other men, and then slowly, incredulously turns to look at the woman.

“I won't ask you to learn your lesson,” she says, but she’s not looking at Jango. She’s watching Montross, beautiful features cool but not cruel. “You had as many chances as you deserve already. But I’ll give you a clean slate, a fresh start, and see what you make of yourself then.”

At the same moment, the robe she’s holding shifts, fluttering in the breeze, and the patterns stitched into the edges come clear.

It feels, simultaneously, like Jango's heart drops and leaps, and he doesn’t know whether to throw himself aside and try to belly-crawl away or stay where he is and hope for mercy. He’s heard stories of the Jedi who wears that robe—everyone in the Outer Rim has. There are _thousands_ of tales about her, about the healing she does.

About the enemies she leaves behind, unmade, undone. Jango's just…never seen it done before.

As Montross slumps, unconscious, the Jedi's eyes slide away from him, like he’s entirely harmless now. Instead, her gaze settles on Jango, and instantly her expression eases, the cool edge sliding out and concern rising to replace it. She drops to her knees beside Jango, setting her robe down, and reaches out.

“They hurt you,” she says, pained.

“They were going to do a hell of a lot more than that,” Jango manages, and swallows as her hand curls around his upper arm. He feels—vulnerable. More vulnerable than he should, even after Montross stripped him and kicked him around. Montross is _gone_ , his mind wiped clean of who he was, and she did that without even _touching_ him.

It’s kind of hot. Jango can admit that much without hesitation.

“And yet you tried to warn me anyway,” the Jedi says, and she gives him a smile that makes something hot slide down his spine, pool in his gut. “Thank you. I'm Jedi Master Fay.”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, and has to take a breath as her hand splays over his chest. “Of the True Mandalorians.”

“The most honorable mercenaries in a hundred systems,” Fay says with a smile, and the next breath Jango takes is clearer, fuller. He closes his eyes in relief, and an instant later the cuffs he’s wearing snap, the halves of them dropping away. With a pained groan, Jango pulls his arms around in front of him, and—Montross had him for days, kept him chained up the whole time. Freedom of movement is a luxury he’s never going to take for granted again.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, because he knows when a debt is owed.

Fay just shakes her head. “I couldn’t have done otherwise,” she says, as if that negates what Jango owes her. When he raises a brow at her, she pauses, considering him for a long moment, and then says, “I didn’t do it for thanks.”

“I know,” Jango says. “But you get them anyway. Montross got my father killed. I thought—”

Thought it was going to be the second time in five years that the True Mandalorians were without a leader, or worse, that Montross would try to claim the title. He owes Fay more than his own life; he owes her the lives of his men, as well as Jaster's legacy.

Fay doesn’t answer, though she looks thoughtful more than anything. Reaching up, she cups Jango's face between her hands, smoothing her thumb lightly over one of his spectacular black eyes, and the throbbing heat of it eases. Jango closes his eyes in relief, and her long, cool fingers slide down, tracing bruises, skimming across cuts. Finally, gently, her palm settles over the blaster wound, and Jango hisses at the not-quite-pain of the edges pulling together, the flesh knitting. His head spins with the sensation, but Fay catches him with an arm around his back, and Jango leans into her for a moment as his vision wavers.

“Give yourself a moment,” Fay says gently. “So much healing is hard on the body. I’ll take you back to the True Mandalorians in the morning.”

Jango will forever blame the wooziness of blood loss for the fact that he actually opens his mouth and says, “Stay. When you do, stay with us. We won't—I don’t care that you're a Jedi. Let me thank you properly.”

There's a pause that’s pure surprise, and gentle fingers brush Jango's hair away from his eyes. Fay studies his face for a long, long moment, and then smiles.

“You're kind,” she says. “Normally I would say there's no debt. But…the Force drew me to you, and it doesn’t want to separate us just yet.”

It’s not _I’ll stay_ , but honestly, it’s more than Jango expected. He’ll take it, and if he tries to change her mind—well. That’s just good business and paying a debt.


End file.
